Author Hannah Wallis Oh ! treat me not with Husks To-day, My Soul wants better fare; Are not rich Cordials given oft To such as fainting are. And I am sick of Sin, A grievous heavy load! Oh! wash me in my Saviour's blood, And bring me near to God! Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments